


Where There Be Monsters

by njw



Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batfamily Bonding, Fantasy, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Jason's Volcano, M/M, Shapeshifters - Freeform, dicktimweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: “Are there many brigands in these parts?” Tim asks. “I like to go for walks at night, but I was wondering if it would be safe here.”Dick’s twitch of surprise and quickly covered expression of dismay are barely there, but noticeable to Tim. Odd. “Oh, you shouldn’t do that around here. There are thieves and rogues, yes, but the true monster is the great Demon Bat. It’s a vampire which stalks the night and leaves nought but bloodless corpses and sorrow in its wake.” He sounds genuinely anxious, worried.Maybe he’s afraid I’ll go out anyway and be harmed? Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.That’s the moment Tim resolves to find this Great Bat creature. After all, he’s less vulnerable than he looks, and if some monster really is terrorizing the countryside, well, of course he should do whatever he can to stop it.*For thetumblr Dicktim weekday six fantasy/supernatural au/kingdom prompt.
Relationships: Koriand'r/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571443
Comments: 101
Kudos: 396
Collections: Dick Tim Week 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tremendous thanks to Salazarastark, Snow, and TheMandylion for the fantastic beta! 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> *  
> Warnings this chapter for canonical minor character deaths (circumstances have been changed to match fantasy setting), and threats of non-con to a minor (quickly averted).

Dick watches his mom and dad perform, a familiar spark of happiness blossoming in his heart as beautiful doves and flowers form in the air and flutter to the ground around them. The watching crowd of villagers gasp and cry out in awe. These shows are one of his favorite parts of traveling with his parents from place to place. He knows that most people in small villages have never seen such a magical demonstration in their entire lives, and the village of Coventry has no more than thirty inhabitants. The nearest larger settlement is the town of Gotham, a full day’s journey away at twenty miles to the north. The most exciting thing that usually comes their way is twin calves being born, or maybe the river flooding every few decades and sweeping away someone’s barn.

It’s wonderful to be able to bring magic into their lives, even in such a small way. His mom laughs, eyes sparkling with joy as she floats up into the air and twirls, dancing like a leaf on the wind before tumbling down into his dad's waiting arms. She throws a grin Dick’s way, and he vibrates with excitement. He hasn’t been allowed to perform with his parents before, but he’s sure he can do a good job.

_Now it’s my turn. Just like we practiced…_

He draws in a deep breath, then leaps, trusting his mom’s magic to catch him. It’s not that he doesn’t have magic of his own—he does, but he mostly seems to take after his dad. Their particular style of magic is much more useful for healing, not showy performances like this. Dick might be able to learn more of his mother’s style of magecraft in time, but right now he still needs her help to get started. Fortunately, Mary Grayson has enough flair to go around. Once he feels her magic wrap around him, guiding him through the air, his own power reaches out and takes over. It’s always so easy to fly, once she gives him that little boost.

Laughing, Dick closes his eyes and _soars._ Flying with his family, performing flips and tumbling through the air to entertain the delighted villagers below—it’s exhilarating, beyond anything he’s ever felt before.

Later that night, when the brigands are holding the Graysons captive after waylaying them on the road halfway to Gotham, he tries hard to cling to the remembered feeling of that moment. It doesn’t really work.

His mom holds tightly to his hand as they watch in horror, restrained by cruel grips on their arms, while two of the thugs drag his protesting dad away from them.

The lead brigand sneers at John Grayson, who meets his gaze squarely despite the swelling and blood around his left eye, which must make it hard to see. “Summon us a unicorn now. Them horns are worth a pretty penny, and unicorn blood is worth its weight in diamonds.” The rogue must see John’s spasm of horror at the very thought of betraying his own blood-kin in such a way, because he changes his tactics and tries to bargain. “Make it easy on yerself, and just show us what tricks you used to call the unicorns. Give me the amulet, or spell, or whatever the hell it is you bring them with. Keep yer own hands clean, eh, and we’ll let you and your wench go. The lad, too—he’s too young to be worth much except as a bed warmer for a lord. Pretty enough for that, though, ain’t he?” He eyes Dick, who reflexively shrinks back behind his mom.

This time, both Mary and John blanch, and her fingers tighten on Dick’s hand to the point of pain. “Never!” John says fiercely. It isn’t immediately clear whether his denial is in defense of the unicorns, or his son.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The blade across his throat makes that word his last, either way.

 _“Dad!”_ Dick screams, wrenching halfway out of his mom’s hold before her arms tighten around him, her sobs shaking both their bodies. She’s weak, far too weak to fight right now after the effort of both that last show, and then assisting his father in healing half the village with the help of the unicorns he’d summoned.

Darkly, Dick wonders if one of those very same villagers might have been the one who betrayed them to these blaggards. If so, they deserve the magical pox that will fall them, as it does anyone who spills the blood of a unicorn-born.

Mary shoves him behind her, and Dick blinks back to an awareness of his surroundings. She’s—oh, god. She’s trying to bargain for his freedom. “I can perform numerous tricks and awe-inspiring feats of magic,” she says, voice only slightly tinged with the desperation she must be feeling. “I can—”

“You ain’t no use to us unless you can tell us how to bring the unicorns,” the leader says. He sounds bored, as though the life of John Grayson, whose blood still stains his blade, means nothing to him.

It probably doesn’t.

In that moment, Dick wishes nothing more than to have been dragon-born, or troll-born, or literally _anything_ other than unicorn-born. Healing talents are all very well and good, but not when some monster in human skin is murdering your family members one by one before your eyes. If he had just a tenth the mage-skills of his mother, even, he’d be able to fly them out of there.

But he’s never been able to fly without Mary giving him that first lift. With a surge of determination, Dick decides in that moment that if he manages to survive this, he’s going to work hard until he can fly whenever he has to. No one he loves will ever be hurt like this in front of him again, not when he’s strong enough to protect them.

That doesn’t save his mom, though. She starts speaking faster, words tumbling over themselves in her haste to find a way out of this for them. “I can adapt my magecraft, use it to cast illusions on you so you can better reach your goals—” Her voice cuts off as the thief lifts his blade to her throat.

“Woman,” he says, sounding disgusted, “you don't know anything about how the damn unicorns were summoned, do you?” His face twists into an ugly scowl of disappointment.

Mary Grayson’s face is calm and her voice clear as she looks him straight in the eye and lies, “No.” She dies silently, her blood splashing across Dick’s face because she was still standing right in front of him.

He hears a soft whimpering sound, and it takes him far too long to realize it’s coming from him.

_I’m never going to have the chance to grow stronger, am I? Not that it matters, now. There’s no one left to save._

Dick hears the soft thud of his mother’s body, falling at his feet. He wants to reach down, lift her head into his lap and mindlessly stroke the auburn hair out of her eyes. There’s something around his upper arm, though, that’s stopping him from moving.

“And now we’re just down to you, boy-o.” The waft of sour breath in his face and the sight of a leering grin, far too close, are a shock. Dick realizes with a little jerk of horror that his mom and dad are _gone_ now. They’re not there anymore to run interference between him and predatory monsters like this.

They’re not going to laugh and dance and tell him how much they love him, ever again. Never going to sing him to sleep in the language of his mother’s people—the ones who were lost to a terrible spell so many centuries ago, except for a few like her, whose ancestors survived the diaspora by dint of having been in flight at the time of the mass destruction of their aeries.

He’s never going to fly with his parents again, never going to have a chance to tell them how grateful he is for their love and the way they always did their best to protect him. Right down to tonight, when they both died rather than tell these monsters the truth.

They sacrificed their own lives instead of telling the brigands that Dick’s the one who summons the unicorns. His father gave up that particular power years ago, when he married Mary Grayson and chose a chance at a family over being able to commune directly with the magical creatures whose blood he shared. He could still work with them, and access their healing powers once they showed up, but they couldn’t hear his mental voice from afar anymore if he tried to call them. Dick, with his purity of soul and body, was always the one who called them, whose voice they heard and answered.

 _This is my fault,_ he thinks, sick to his soul. _If I hadn’t called those unicorns to come and help heal the villagers with plague—_

His painful self-recriminations break off as the hands gripping his upper arms tighten cruelly. A mocking laugh sounds in his ear. “Pretty little thing, ain’t he? Now he’s not hiding behind his mama’s skirts, you can really see. Bet he’s real soft, too.” The thug holding him yanks at him, forcing him back against his body. The sour odor grows stronger, as does Dick’s panic.

Twisting and jerking away in disgust and horror, he pants, heart racing as he realizes his situation might be about to grow even more dire, in ways he doesn’t want to imagine.

“Well, there’s no way this kid knows shit about the damn unicorns if the woman didn’t. Fuck, I killed the asshole too fast. Was so sure it was some kinda charm or amulet, and the woman would hand it over in exchange for her kid once I proved how serious I was by killing her man.” The leader hacks, then spits out a glob of—something, which lands on the ground by Dick’s feet. He stares at it numbly for a long moment, watching as it glistens in the moonlight. “Musta been a spell. Maybe the man was the only one who knew it.”

If either of his parents had just told them the truth, maybe they would still be alive now. Dick thinks about that for a moment, then shakes his head. In his heart, he knows it isn’t true. All that would have changed was the timing and order of their deaths, most likely. The brigands wouldn’t have seen any need to keep Mary or John alive once they knew Dick was the one they wanted.

Well, there’s no way he’s giving them his secret, not now when there’s nothing and no one left worth protecting. He just hopes whatever follows is fast, and over quickly.

“I bet we can at least get some coin for the pretty little boy, here,” the man holding him says, audibly leering. He jerks Dick back against his body again, rolling his hips obscenely.

“Stop it!” he cries out, unable to suppress his outcry of horror. “Don’t!” His voice is high and thin with fear and grief. He sounds younger than his nine years, and he knows anyone with a grain of humanity would have pity on him.

Too bad none of the half-dozen brigands who surround him seem to have any humanity left at all. “He’ll still be worth something after we’ve each had our fill,” the leader says, lips pulling back and exposing blackened, gapped teeth. “Give ‘im here, as boss I get first go. You boys can fight over whatever’s left, after.”

Dick’s heart is in his throat as he inhales, knowing if he starts screaming now he’ll never _stop,_ and then—

A great, black shadow falls across the clearing where so many dark deeds have taken place, and then descends in a wave of fury, marked by flurried movements and screams. Hot blood splashes across Dick’s face again, and he twitches back in horror. This time, he actually manages to move when he tries, the man gripping his arm having been torn away.

There’s a monster in the clearing, and it’s destroying the people who killed his parents. Dick should probably try to run away, but he’s never felt less like running in his life. This is a just fate. They deserve it. Still, he isn't sure if what has him frozen in place is a desire to see justice carried out, or pure, animal fear of the beast which is doing the deed.

Maybe it’s just sadness, weighing his feet down like an anchor to the earth.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, everything falls silent. Dick’s brow furrows and he stares into the night, half expecting something to come rushing at him out of the darkness to finish him off. Nothing happens. “Hello?” he says, tentatively taking a step forward. “Is there anyone there?”

If any of the brigands answers, hopefully the monster is still hanging around, ready to pounce on them.

The darkness moves, and Dick takes an involuntary step back. The great mass of darkness freezes in place.

Dick swallows. “Hello?”

“Hello,” the darkness says, in a deep and gravelly voice.

He flinches back so hard he falls on the ground, landing on his bottom with a startled yelp. At least he doesn’t seem to have landed on any of the bodies which are now strewn about the clearing.

“Child, you do not need to fear me,” the voice says, sounding… sad?

Blinking, Dick rises up on his knees and peers forward, trying to discern a shape. “What are you? Did you kill all those men?”

“I am justice, and I have stopped these men from doing further harm. I will bind them and carry them to the nearest magistrate, with a list of their misdeeds. Don’t worry. Your parents will have justice for their deaths, little though I know that knowledge will comfort you now.”

Dick’s eyes widen in shock. “Wait, the bad guys are still alive? I thought you tore them apart!”

The darkness huffs, seeming displeased. “I do not kill.”

Huh. Well, that's definitely unexpected. Oddly, it makes Dick feel a little safer, even though it means the brigands are still alive. Somehow, he believes this strange creature which claims it will obtain justice for his parents.

“Okay,” he says after a minute, and then wiggles, trying to rise to his feet. “Uh, you wouldn't happen to know where a new orphan should go, would you?”

The darkness pauses for a long moment, then moves forward and—after he doesn’t back away in fear—gently gathers him up in its arms. Its fur is soft. “I have an idea about that,” it says, drawing him close.

He should be terrified, but instead he feels almost… safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, trembling and terrified after dreadful monster destroys the brigands who killed his parents:** “Welp, it was a good nine years”  
>  **Dreadful monster, spotting an orphan and immediately going into dad-mode:** *Tenderly gathers Dick up by the scruff and carries him home* “This is how adoption works, right?”


	2. Chapter 2

The faint rustle at his pocket would likely be imperceptible to a normal human, but Bruce has never been entirely human. He turns quickly enough to capture the wrist attached to the hand which just closed around his coin purse. It’s small, and far too thin. The realization that his thief is a child nearly causes him to release the boy, but then he catches sight of the child’s face, and the lurid bruise adorning his swollen left eye.

“Who hit you?” Bruce growls, unintentionally terrifying the poor boy. Instead of cringing, though, the lad knees him in the groin and twists in a desperate attempt to free himself. “Hngh,” Bruce grunts, twitching slightly as he absorbs the painful blow.

“I ain’t done nothin’! Lemme go!” The boy’s wild struggles intensify.

Bruce frowns down at him, noting the boy’s ragged attire and unhealthy appearance of thinness. Added to the visible bruises on his face and arms, it makes for a very disturbing picture of his probable home life. His heart goes out to the boy as he recognizes a child in need, but his first instinct—to take him home and raise him as his own—is not going to work in this situation. This boy is clearly no Dick Grayson.

Bruce’s first adopted child was raised in love and trusted easily, having been shielded by his parents all his life from true ill-treatment right up until that fateful night when they first met. After saving him from those terrible brigands, there had been no difficulty in carrying him home and providing him the comfort and attention needed to help him recover from the tragedy. But the boy before him now is obviously different, hurt and wary. He has likely learned to his detriment that adults are not to be trusted.

Well, he was attempting to steal money. Obviously, he needs it for his survival. “How much do you need?” If nothing else, Bruce can try to make sure he has enough to eat today. Perhaps he can continue returning to this spot every day, with food and warm clothing, in hopes of gradually earning the boy’s trust—

“Bruce! What are you doing over here? You were supposed to meet me in front of the grocer’s ten minutes ago! Oh, hey there! I’m Dick, what’s your name?” The twelve year old bounces right up to the younger child and immediately offers him a slightly sticky-looking hand to shake.

The probably homeless boy eyes the appendage suspiciously, shifting away slightly. Bruce sighs, then says sternly, “Dick, I asked you to wait for me with Doctor Thompkins. I said I would take you to the grocer’s to pick out a treat _after_ I finished my other errands. You know better than to go running off by yourself.”

Dick looks abashed for a moment, then brightens. “I still get a molasses candy, right?” He looks so absurdly hopeful that Bruce can’t help but smile.

At that moment, the other boy—who had looked frightened when Bruce first raised his voice at Dick, then cautious, and finally disbelieving—bursts out, “What the _fuck?_ I get hit for fuckin’ breathing wrong, and this asshole can break all the rules and still get _candy?”_

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to call someone,” Dick says mildly.

Bruce’s lips twitch as he fights another smile. “You may choose a piece of candy, but you won’t get to eat it until tomorrow, as punishment for disobeying me.”

Dick pouts but nods, recognizing the fairness of this pronouncement.

“As for you,” Bruce turns to the malnourished stranger, concern rising again as he sees the contrast between his own healthy son and this unfortunate child, “will you allow me to buy you some groceries? You don’t have to tell me where you’re staying. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

A look of longing passes over the boy’s face. “I guess that would be okay,” he says, kicking at the ground with one scuffed, holey boot. “The name’s Jason, by the way. Jason Todd.”

At the name, several realizations click into place in Bruce’s mind, along with a horrified mental adjustment of the boy’s age. Willis Todd was one of Gotham’s many ne’er do wells, and was sentenced to hard labor for horse-stealing before dying in prison a few years ago. His widow, Catherine, was kind and quiet, and Bruce had never heard any worse of her than that she liked her laudanum a little too well.

Hadn’t she died last winter? Surely, someone took in her child. But based on his memory, Jason Todd should be about ten now. He’d judged the boy before him as eight, at most.

Clearly, if anyone is caring for him, they’re not doing a good job of it. Especially considering Bruce has always privately more than suspected that Willis Todd was at least half mountain troll. Jason should be bigger than average, not smaller.

“Jason, would you like to come home with us?” The words tumble from his mouth before he has a chance to consider them. Seeing the boy flinch back, wary suspicion in his blue eyes, Bruce continues, “Dick gets lonely, living away from the town at Wayne Manor. I was going to find him a paid companion to socialize with anyway, so I figure I can offer you the job.” He wasn’t, but now that he’s thought of it, a companion would be a good idea for his son.

Dick looks from one to the other of them, quickly picks up on what Bruce is attempting to do, and nods vigorously. “Yeah, Bruce was going to hire some brainless fop to keep me company. Save me?”

Well, at least he’s embroidering on Bruce’s falsehood instead of denying it altogether. The more he thinks about it, the more convinced he becomes that company his own age would be good for Dick. He’s a social creature and it must wear on him, seeing no one but Bruce and Alfred for weeks on end. They tutor him in every subject in which he expresses an interest, but books can only go so far. Gotham is a remote town to begin with, in the hinterlands of the Kingdom of Jersey, a small nation dwarfed by the larger kingdoms crowding it from all sides but the sea. Wayne Manor is several miles out from the town, further isolating them from regular social contact beyond their immediate family circle.

Jason has an expression of utmost disbelief on his face. “Wait, Dick? _Manor?_ Are you—you’re Bruce Wayne!” He looks more than ever as though he wants to run away. “Fuck, I can’t believe I tried to steal your coin purse.”

Bruce chuckles. “You made an excellent attempt, but I would prefer you consider earning that money legally, as Dick’s companion.” If he accepts this offer, it will give them time to ease him into the idea of becoming a son of the house.

“And what would I hafta do?” Jason asks suspiciously. “I ain’t bendin’ over for neither of you—”

Dick squawks in horror and Bruce blanches, feeling ill. “Jason,” he says, trying to keep the disgust and fury off his face and out of his voice so as not to further frighten an already abused boy, “has anyone ever—?” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, as though speaking the words will make it true.

The boy studies his face for a long moment. Whatever he reads, he relaxes enough that he’s got a small smile on his face when he answers. “Naw,” he says. “Couple guys tried, and I about cut their balls off with my dad’s knife. Guess word got around, ‘cause no one’s made a move on me since.”

Dick lets out a small, wounded-sounding noise, then reaches for his new little brother’s hand. Surprisingly, Jason allows it. “C’mon,” Dick says. “Dad’s getting us candy.”

Both boys turn to walk down the street, Jason half-twisting around a couple of times to peek and make sure Bruce is following.

It will take more than candy to fix the pain this boy has endured. Hopefully, the love, family, and safety they can offer him will be enough.

And maybe Bruce should wait until Jason feels secure with them before letting him in on the family secret. The only reason Dick has known from the very beginning was the circumstances under which they met. Otherwise, Bruce would certainly have attempted to shield him for longer, as well.

Yes, with any luck, it will be several months at least before Jason learns about the Bat. He smiles faintly, pleased with his decision.

As it happens, it’s barely a few days.

“Jason, please put down the fire iron.” Bruce eyes the potential weapon with concern, maintaining a healthy distance from the small but scrappy child.

Jason pauses mid-swing, apparently recognizing his voice even in this form. “Wait, _Bruce?”_ His voice squeaks as his eyes grow huge. “What the fuck, did the bat-monster thing _eat you?”_ He glares, charging forward while swinging the fire iron in an alarming manner. “I’ll getcha outta there, B!”

Bruce watches his approach with a fatalistic feeling of resignation. If he had the strength to dodge, he would never have risked returning to the manor while still in this form. Jason _should_ have been asleep, but he shouldn’t have relied on that. Wouldn’t have done so, except the injuries he incurred tonight while saving a merchant caravan from a veritable horde of brigands—several of whom must have been at least three-quarters ogre—are so dire as to require Alfred’s assistance to heal.

Speaking of Alfred… Bruce’s lips twitch into an approximation of a smile as he sees the faithful retainer blur into view directly behind Jason. “That will be quite enough of that, Master Jason,” the old man says sternly, catching the boy’s hand on the downswing with deceptive strength and speed. Turning from the now-gaping boy, he scans Bruce with his eyes, then sighs. “Oh, Master Bruce, whatever have you done to yourself now?”

Bruce sighs, then allows himself to collapse gracelessly on the floor, giving in to the siren song of sleep.

The first thing he’s aware of as he awakens is the soft sensation of sheets and bedding against the bare skin of his arms. He’s in his human form again. Good. That means Alfred was able to heal his injuries sufficiently for his body to automatically revert.

The second thing he notices is the sound of the boys talking. They must be sitting at his bedside. A warm feeling kindles in his heart at this sign of their concern.

Dick’s speaking. “Yeah, I know it’s a shock—I mean, everyone knows Bruce Wayne has no magic. But while that’s true, people’s assumption that not _having_ magic is the same as not _being_ magic is part of what helps keep his secret.”

Jason huffs, then says, “Yeah, okay. But still, the fuckin’ Bat Beast is a goddamn nightmare, menacing the countryside and savaging dozens of innocent people every year.”

“You sure about that?”

“Uh…” Jason swallows audibly. “I was?”

Dick snickers. “We cultivate the bad reputation as another way to help keep the Bat’s secret. Really, he helps people in need. Protects them, saves them. He doesn’t kill anyone, ever.”

“Huh. Well, it’s still weird that he turns into a goddamn giant bat-monster.” The boy sounds petulant, possibly let down by the big mystery being less gruesome and violent than he’d expected.

“It isn’t _that_ weird,” Dick reasons. “I mean, lots of people have mixed heritage. I know there are a bunch of half-fairies and quarter-elves in town, not to mention the people who are part pixie or wolf, or that one centaur blacksmith and farrier who’s a walking advertisement for the quality of his own work.”

Bruce barely manages to suppress a snort at that. There’s no way that blacksmith is flexible enough to shoe himself. Still, it’s heartwarming that Dick is speaking up in Bruce’s defense, helping Jason to understand that he’s not a different or worse person now that the boy knows his secret.

“I guess,” Jason says, sounding hesitant.

There’s a smile in Dick’s voice as he continues, “Heck, I’m part unicorn myself.”

The silence which greets his announcement lasts so long, Bruce grows concerned and opens his eyes. As he suspected, he’s lying in his bed, clad in his pajamas. The boys are sitting in a couple of chairs pulled up to his bedside. They don’t seem to have noticed he’s awake.

“Wait. Lemme get this straight.” Jason stares at Dick for a long moment, brows slowly rising as his eyes widen in what appears to be slowly dawning horror. “Okay,” he says finally. “What I wanna know is, which of your ancestors got freaky with a unicorn?” He scowls at Dick’s dumbfounded reaction. “No, seriously, at some point one of your forebears looked at a goddamn unicorn, thought ‘this is a great idea,’ and fucked a horse. All’s I wanna know is, who was it?”

_I… have actually never considered that._

Bruce turns to look at Dick questioningly, curious. The boy blinks to see him awake, then blushes bright red, sputtering. “J- _Jason!_ None of them—did _that!_ The more powerful unicorns are able to put on human form, just like a lot of other magical creatures. I mean, isn’t that how the were-bat blood made it into your family?” Both boys turn to look expectantly at Bruce.

He suppresses a wince. “That question is one I have intentionally avoided thinking about ever since I was old enough to wonder. Your explanation is significantly better than any which have previously occurred to me.”

The boys fall silent then, digesting that. “Yeah,” Jason says finally, “that’s sure as hell a lot better than trying to figure out how the hell a human could fuck a bat.”

Everyone makes a face at that.

“Excuse me,” Alfred’s voice carries over from the doorway with an awful tone of censure, “I merely caught the tail end of that conversation, but it appears to be highly inappropriate subject matter for this early in the morning.” Or ever, his expression intimates as he casts a reproving gaze at Bruce.

He shrugs. These kinds of discussions just seem to happen around Jason. The boy’s a live wire, that’s for sure. Watching his boys bickering amicably, laughing and teasing one another, he smiles.

_That went surprisingly well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, with a puzzled frown:** *Reaches behind him, catches Jason who is trying to sneak away with giant armload of things he just pickpocketed off Bruce* “Are those my—how did you get my SHOES without me noticing?”  
>  **Jason, squawking and struggling to break free:** *Knees Bruce in the balls multiple times, stares in awed horror when he still doesn’t let go* “Are you even HUMAN?”  
>  **Bruce, looking super shifty eyed:** “Yeesss….” *Shakes head, moves on* “Anyway, you’re clearly in need of a loving family. Welcome home, son!”  
>  **Dick, popping up out of nowhere:** “Yay!” *Shoves molasses candy into Jason’s shocked, gaping mouth*


	3. Chapter 3

“Welcome to the town,” an amused-sounding voice calls out from the garden gate. Tim freezes, realizing all of a sudden both that he’s wearing a wildly inappropriate outfit, and that the person addressing him is easily the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

Dark blue eyes crinkle as the man slowly smiles, expressive brows rising toward his wavy black hair as he takes in the full effect of Tim’s inglorious appearance.

“Uh,” Tim says articulately. He’s filled with regret for all the terrible decisions which led him to this point. Scheduling the washing _before_ he ran out of good clothes to wear would have prevented this from ever happening. Staying inside the house instead of traipsing out in his odd assortment of his own long-outgrown shorts, his father’s enormous shirt with the weird stain on it, and one of his mother’s silk bathrobes would also have been wise, in hindsight.

He isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands—drop the shovel? Clutch the edges of the robe closed so it stops flashing the gorgeous stranger glimpses of his pale legs? Cover the man’s eyes so he can’t see Tim’s shame because his hands aren’t big enough to hide it directly?—so of course he just stands there, gaping and gradually turning red.

The beautiful stranger grins, somehow becoming even more handsome in the process. “I like your shoes,” he says.

Tim blinks, frantically trying to recall which shoes he’s wearing.

_As long as it’s not that hideous pair made out of actual griffin hide Dad gave me three years ago, it can’t be too bad._

He looks down, then squeezes his eyes closed as he somehow achieves a new level of shame. He’s wearing a pair of his mother’s soft, frilly, goose-down house slippers. In mauve. “It’s laundry day,” he says plaintively, hoping the other man won’t ask for more details.

He doesn’t, seemingly accepting the explanation as perfectly valid without a pause. Maybe he knows what it’s like to forget about laundry until it’s too late. “I’m Dick Grayson,” he says. “I live down the lane. And you are…?”

Tim opens his eyes, and sees Dick peering at him with a slightly concerned expression. “I’m Tim Drake. We just moved in.”

“Oh,” Dick smiles, glancing toward the house. “You and your…” He trails off, clearly unsure.

“My parents,” Tim helps him out. “They’re… around.” It’s probably best not to mention they’ve already taken off on another of their adventures. It will likely be at least a year, possibly longer, before they return, and it’s better not to spread that knowledge around. One never knows who might be listening, and while bandits would find him an ill target, he knows better than to invite catastrophe. On that note, he asks, “Are there many brigands in these parts? I like to go for walks at night, but I was wondering if it would be safe here.”

Dick’s twitch of surprise and quickly covered expression of dismay are barely there, but noticeable to Tim. Odd. “Oh, you shouldn’t do that around here. There are thieves and rogues, yes, but the true monster is the great Demon Bat. It’s a vampire which stalks the night and leaves nought but bloodless corpses and sorrow in its wake.” He sounds genuinely anxious, worried.

_Maybe he’s afraid I’ll go out anyway and be harmed? Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him._

That’s the moment Tim resolves to find this Great Bat creature. After all, he’s less vulnerable than he looks, and if some monster really is terrorizing the countryside, well, of course he should do whatever he can to stop it.

“Okay,” he says, smiling his gratitude at the still anxious looking man. “I really appreciate your telling me about that. It’ll definitely have an effect on my evening walk plans.”

_Just not the effect you were going for._

Dick relaxes, relief apparent. “Hey, do you need some help with this? It looks like a lot of work, and I know how to handle a shovel.”

_I want to handle your shovel. Ugh, what the fuck, mind? That didn’t even make sense. Have some dignity!_

Glancing involuntarily at the other man’s broad shoulders and muscular arms, Tim feels his lips twitch. “I’ll bet you do,” he murmurs, then clears his throat. Louder, he says, “You really don’t have to…” Honestly, it’s a kind offer, but he doesn’t want to impose on someone he just met. Even if he’d really like an excuse to spend more time getting to know him—it’s definitely nothing to do with hoping he’d take his shirt off after helping turn the earth for a few hours. Of course not. Tim blushes harder, mind possibly going more than a little fuzzy at the thought.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Dick says, reaching up and pulling his shirt off one-handed in an impossibly graceful motion. He steps through the gate and reaches for the shovel, allowing his warm, broad hand to completely cover Tim’s. “I think I’ll enjoy it,” he says, voice dropping to a sexy rumble.

_Oh my god. So hot. Hnngh._

Tim blinks, then hands Dick the shovel. “In that case, be my guest.” With the other man helping, he can get the winter garden planted in half the time, and free up a few hours to go into town and ask around about the Bat. That’s why he’s going along with this, obviously. The other man flashes another devastating grin, and he almost trips over his own feet.

“Great!” Dick sets to digging in an easy, almost hypnotic rhythm. “Alfred already got our winter garden in, but my little brother and I do most of the manual labor so I’m definitely in practice.” He continues digging as Tim moves to the edge of the garden plot to retrieve the basket of seeds.

It won’t hurt to get to know his devastatingly attractive, very friendly neighbor, anyway. Even if there is a continual risk of embarrassing himself by being an awkward dork around a guy he likes.

A new mystery monster, a gorgeous, apparently interested man—this move is looking like a better idea by the minute. Tim finds some of his irritation about Dad not being able to keep his claws out of the local livestock back where they used to live dissipating. After all, if they hadn't been run out of Brentwood County, they would never have ended up here. And there are plenty of other towns in the kingdom if they end up being driven out of Gotham, as well.

“So,” Tim says, beginning to drop seeds into the furrow forming behind Dick, “I know you have a brother, and I think my parents met your dad when they came out to view the estate, but who’s Alfred? What do you guys do for fun all the way out here?” So far out of town, he doubts there’s much in the way of ready entertainment for a man who looks to be around nineteen or twenty years old.

By the excited expression on Dick’s face, he’s about to learn. Tim smiles, falling into the rhythm of the work and enjoying the company.

Yes, this was definitely a good move.

* * *

Dick grabs the picnic basket off the kitchen counter on his way past, heading for the back door. Something smells amazing, and he sighs happily. “Thanks, Alfred!”

The old vampire appears out of the shadows and beams at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, young love.”

Stumbling, Dick blinks rapidly, briefly considers denying he’s feeling anything like that, and then sighs, giving up. “Is there anything about this family you don’t know?”

Alfred raises a brow, turning toward the door with a faintly pensive expression. “Oh, quite a number of things, I’m sure. For one, try as I might, I have not yet discovered where your brother has been disappearing to so often of late.”

 _Huh, that’s a good question. Ever since his stupid growth spurt made him taller than me, Jay’s been rubbing it in every chance he got. But since he surpassed even_ Bruce _in height_ , _he’s been acting kind of broody._

Dick frowns, concerned. “Do you think he’s self-conscious about his height?”

“The thought had occurred to me.” Alfred clears his throat delicately. “Of course, Master Jason is at a difficult age, and many boys of eighteen find themselves, shall we say, in need of additional _private_ time each day.”

 _Oh, ew, Alfred—please tell me you did_ not _just imply that you think Jason is sneaking off somewhere to spend all day jerking it in the woods._

Alfred sniffs. “One merely wishes he would consider returning any, er, _soiled_ clothing for me to wash. He has gone through a half-dozen pairs of socks this week alone.” He lifts his brows impressively. “I have raised generations of Wayne boys, I know what all of you get up to with your socks—”

Dick’s eyes widen in horror as he involuntarily pictures generations of Wayne men, all furtively abusing socks.

_Nope. That’s just—nope._

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for Jay, I’m going now, bye!” Dick resumes walking rapidly toward the door, shoving all thoughts about horrifically unsexy soxcapades out of his mind.

Alfred sees him out, a faint smile on his kindly old face. “You take care of that young man of yours, Master Richard. Please give him my thanks for the herbs he sent home with you the other day.”

Grinning, Dick nods, and then he’s out the door with a wave over his shoulder. It’s a beautiful day, with a warm breeze stirring his hair and billowing white clouds on the horizon. The blue sky stretches over verdant fields as far as he can see.

_This is a great day to take Tim for a picnic. He needs to get out more, enjoy life. It seems like all I ever see him do is work, when I’m not managing to distract him. Don’t his parents ever pitch in around the house and garden?_

Frowning, Dick slows slightly as, not for the first time, the suspicion rises in his mind that Tim’s parents aren’t all they should be. He’s still never even seen them. The other boy is seventeen, a bit young to be on his own. Heck, Dick doesn’t live alone, and he’s twenty.

Maybe if Tim’s parents were properly involved in his life, he wouldn’t have such an interest in potentially unhealthy activities. He’s been exploring all over the fields and byways surrounding his new home, which is concerning because at some point he might notice not everything is as it should be. Bruce is very careful to leave as little trace of his passage as possible, flying when he can, but once in a while he’s too injured to make it home by wing.

Hopefully, even if he finds traces, Tim will assume it was just a large animal passing through. At least he doesn’t go out at night. Dick’s not sure what would happen if the other man actually caught sight of Bruce in his alternate form, but it probably wouldn’t be good.

_I’d hate it if he saw, and got scared enough to leave. Well, things should be fine. After all, the Bat only goes out at night. There’s no reason for Timmy to ever see him._

Reassured, Dick speeds up again, whistling, a little skip in his step as he thinks about where to take Tim this time for their picnic.

* * *

Tim edges slightly farther into the hedgerow, peering through the gaps in the leaves and hoping for a glimpse of the Great Bat. A chill breeze rustles the branches and sends a shiver down his spine. Or maybe the shiver is due to the eerie darkness, lit only by what little ghostly moonlight manages to penetrate the thick clouds which hang ominously low in the sky. It’s a perfect night for vampire hunting.

A twig snaps nearby, and he freezes. A moment later, a mouse scurries out into the road, snatches something—probably a seed or insect—up off the ground, and then scurries back into Tim’s hedgerow. Disappointment floods through him, and he allows himself an inaudible sigh.

Ever since his parents purchased the second-largest estate in Gotham, he’s been hearing rumors about the mysterious beast which prowls the countryside at night. After first learning about it from Dick, he’s gotten more from every person he’s spoken to in Gotham, from the fruit seller to the shop assistant who helped him figure out which foods to buy to best manage on his own. The Bat is said to be over ten feet tall and vicious, with dagger-like claws and teeth, wings as broad as a barn, and a shrill, high-intensity screech so loud as to be capable of killing a man by collapsing the lungs in his chest. Such a monstrous form may be an exaggeration by frightened people, but if not—there’s a chance the Bat is a hybrid monster of some kind, perhaps vampire crossed with ogre or wight.

Worse, the Bat is reputed to terrorize and kill innocent travelers, livestock, and even the occasional townsperson in their own home. Like most vampires, it only appears at night. Unlike other vampires, the Bat seems undaunted by holy ground.

That last fact isn’t based on rumor. Tim saw it himself the other night when he managed to catch a glimpse of the fell beast as it passed through the churchyard in town. If only he’d been close enough to get a better look at it. One glance wasn’t enough to confirm its size or the details of its physical appearance. It had been hunched over and moving rapidly with an irregular gait, possibly due to injury.

He still hasn’t figured out where it comes from each night, but he’s been narrowing it down. It may be using the lane which leads past the Drake estate, which is somewhat concerning. He found traces of it there the other night, a few scuff marks on the road, and drops of blood. But _where_ it went to ground during the day, he still hasn’t figured out. Maybe Dick will be interested in going for a hike tomorrow. He might know if there are any old barrows around.

_There’s a mystery here, and I’m going to solve it._

If possible, Tim will track the monster back to its lair. Then he can return to the site in daylight, while the beast is most vulnerable, and seal or destroy it using spells from his parents’ books.

_Murder and mayhem aside, this is fascinating. Between the Bat and hanging out with Dick, I’ve actually been keeping pretty busy here in Gotham, which is awesome. Life would have gotten a tad boring otherwise, waiting around for my parents to come home in another year or three._

Having a project makes everything so much better. Too bad he can’t share it with Dick. Having his help would certainly speed the investigation up and make it that much more enjoyable—but that wouldn’t work. The other man would never approve of him putting himself in danger. Little does he know. Tim smiles, continuing to watch the main road out of town. A caravan was delayed for a broken axel today, and should have left town at dusk. Soon, they should be making their way past his hiding place—which just happens to be near where the fields surrounding the town give way to woods.

It’s the perfect spot for an ambush. Smirking, he waits for the Bat to show.

His confidence is shaken a while later, when the Bat finally makes an appearance— _after_ the caravan is waylaid by a band of rogues. Tim pauses, halfway to his feet because he’d been planning to help save them. It does not appear that his assistance is required. A wailing brigand flies past his hiding place to lodge, head-first and flailing, in the hedgerow to his left.

Tim swallows. Whatever this creature is, he’s beginning to think some of the rumors surrounding it may have been mistaken. His suspicions only strengthen as he watches the enormous, monstrous creature carefully lift one of the wagons out of the ditch it drove into during the ruckus. The Bat sets the vehicle back on the road with ease, increasing Tim’s estimates of its strength tenfold.

It doesn’t kill anyone, never even makes a move to bite. He stares in rising disbelief as it perfunctorily binds the brigands, picks them up—including the one lodged in Tim’s hedgerow, which is only mildly terrifying—and then heads over to the town, where it deposits them on the ground in front of the constable’s office. It doesn’t even drain a single drop of their blood. After it returns, it checks on the caravan, then uses its massive strength to untwist a damaged wagon frame so the group can travel on. It even gently pats one of the horses on the rump before launching itself back into the night.

Huh. Maybe Tim has to rethink some of his plans here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, planting winter garden:** “Damn I’m glad our new house is in the middle of nowhere so no one can see me in my hideous laundry day clothes”  
>  **Dick, popping up out of nowhere:** “Hello there, neighbor!” *Smiles, looks insanely attractive*  
>  **Tim, attempting to crawl into a hole:** “Fml”  
>  **Dick, watching with interest:** “That’s an interesting way to garden” *Takes off his shirt* “Want some help?”  
>  **Tim, forgetting humiliation to stare at Dick’s pecs:** “Hnngh”


	4. Chapter 4

Dick glances over, surprised, as the bedroom door next to his opens, and Jason stumbles out. This is the first time he’s actually seen his brother face to face in over a week. If it weren’t for various signs of his presence, such as missing food, damp towels, and a rising pile of dirty laundry in his room—suspiciously absent any socks—he would have thought the other man hadn’t been home at all in that time.

“Hey, Jay,” he says, smiling encouragingly. Maybe he can get his brother to confide in him. After all, difficult age or not, anything that uses _that_ many socks and takes so many hours out of his day can’t be healthy. Can it? “How’ve you been?”

Jason just eyes him with an expression of deep suspicion, then brushes past with a grunt that might be acknowledgement of his question. Rude.

“Jason, we never see you anymore! Listen, I know you’re getting older, growing hair in weird places, and probably feeling strange new urges—” Dick’s mouth twists as he tries to hold a straight face. Okay, so it’s entirely possible he’s not the best at sensitive conversations. Maybe it will at least get a reaction, though.

He isn’t disappointed. The other man stops in his tracks, turning to stare at him with an expression of horror. “What the _fuck,_ Dickhead? I went through fuckin’ puberty years ago. The only urge I’m feeling right now is the one telling me to punch your stupid face.”

_Wow, his voice got deeper over the past few days. And… Is he even taller now? Holy shit._

Dick raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. The last thing he wants is to actually offend him and drive him further into isolation. “Sorry, but seriously, Jay, we never see you anymore. Is there anything wrong?” They’ve always had a reasonably good relationship, bickering and teasing each other, but caring underneath. Surely, he’d tell him if he needed help.

The big man frowns, looking a little apologetic, then flushes to the tips of his ears and shakes his head vigorously. “It’s, uh, no. There’s nothin’ wrong, Dickie.”

Dick should be nice, give him another chance to confide his teenage angst, but… “No hair in weird places?” He just can’t resist.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, you’re such an asshole.” Grumbling to himself, Jason continues down the hall and then into the kitchen, muttering an inaudible greeting to Alfred before he shoulders his way out the door with just an apple he snagged on his way through for his breakfast.

“Dear me,” Alfred says, watching him go with an air of tolerant amusement. “Still at it, I see. I suppose I shall have to put in an order for more socks.” He shakes his head, appearing resigned to the necessary expenditure.

_Ew. Ugh, gross. Welp, talking about literally anything is going to be better than that. Best to just say something, anything right now, as long as it changes the subject._

“I think Tim’s too curious for his own good, and I’m worried he’s going to get himself hurt. Also, he’s really cute and my unicorn senses tell me he’s still a virgin and—holy shit, that is _not_ what I meant to say.” Okay, so maybe blurting out literally anything in order to change the subject wasn’t the best plan after all.

Fortunately, Alfred doesn’t react beyond a faint, suppressed smirk and another slow head shake. He resumes what he had been doing, which appears to be finishing breakfast preparations. Handing Dick a loaded plate, he smiles gently. “Enjoy your breakfast, Master Richard. I’m sure all will be well with your young man in the end. Certainly, if he has a propensity for getting himself into mischief, it merely goes to show what an excellent match he is for you.”

“Hey now,” Dick begins, then pauses. After a moment’s thought he shrugs, nodding. That’s fair. Carrying his plate over to the table, he inhales the delicious scents, then sighs happily. “Thanks for breakfast, Alfred!”

“It is no trouble, my dear boy.” Alfred begins kneading the bread dough while Dick makes short work of the excellent food he’s been given. It’s wonderful—poached eggs, seared ham steaks, finely diced apples, pears, and even a few rare, tart slices of orange. Thinking about the sad meals he’s seen Tim eating on the occasions he’s caught him at mealtime, he feels a twinge of longing.

_I wish I could share this with him. Not just the food, the sense of family and belonging as well. Whatever his parents are like, they obviously don’t bother with him very much._

Once he’s finished, he sits back with a sigh. He’s still dwelling on Tim, although his mind has moved on from thinking over his apparent lonely state to pondering his other worrying tendencies. “Yesterday, Tim asked me to show him around the local barrows. He was asking a lot of questions, and seemed really well informed about magical beasts and magecraft. I’m just worried he’ll either stumble into something bigger and more dangerous than he expects, or maybe run into the Bat one night and get scared away for good.” He frowns, then sighs. “I’d really hate to lose him, Alfred.”

“It is, indeed, a most troubling thought,” Alfred agrees. “Have you considered asking your young man about any of this? Perhaps informing him directly of your concerns for his safety?”

Dick shrugs. “Kind of? I don’t want to go overboard and make him feel like I think he’s not strong enough to explore as much as he wants. And he really loves to learn about magical artifacts and history—he’s so smart.” He smiles dreamily, then tilts his head, eyeing the wise old vampire. “So why do you think Timmy’s so interested in barrows and the like, anyway?”

Alfred hums as he begins working the dough again. It’s always soothing to watch his dexterous fingers smooth and shape the wonderful food he shares with the family. “Fascination with the supernatural and fantastic has often been a refuge for the mundane,” he finally pronounces. “Although I am _far_ from convinced young Master Timothy is, in fact, entirely non magical.”

“Huh, so you think he’s chasing monsters for the thrill of it? It would be quite a surprise if he went after the big, scary Great Bat expecting a vampire, and ended up finding a Bruce instead.” He snorts at the thought.

Bruce’s voice draws their attention to the doorway, where he stands, looking amused. “I will never understand why I am the one with a reputation for being a vampiric monster when _Alfred_ is the actual, genuine vampire in this family.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s easy. I spread a lot of rumors about the Bat over the years, to keep people off your back. Jason helped, once he joined the family.” He raises an eyebrow, considering. “Also, Alfred subsists wholly on human food and insists he doesn’t need blood to survive, so there’s that.”

“You _what?”_ Bruce actually sounds surprised.

“Wait, you didn’t know? I thought you figured that out years ago. Yeah, we figured your cover was okay, but could be better, so we improvised a little.” Dick gives him his most disarming grin. Judging by the unamused but tolerant look he gets in response, it was only partially effective.

“The blood craving is merely that, Master Richard—a craving,” Alfred reminds him as he serves Bruce his breakfast, placing the plate on the table, and then returns to the dough. Considering he’s the only vampire Dick knows who manages to subsist entirely on human food, Dick is more inclined to think Alfred’s just unique.

Bruce eyes the plate loaded with eggs, ham, and fruit. “Isn’t this a bit much…?”

A single gray eyebrow rises slowly as Alfred continues to vigorously knead the dough. Visibly cowed, Bruce makes his way over to the table and begins to eat.

_The townspeople have it so wrong. Alfred is_ totally _the most terrifying member of this family._

Later, when he’s helping Tim pull out the bountiful collection of weeds that are thriving in the Drakes’ garden, Dick takes a moment to appreciate the old man who helped raise him. After all, without Alfred’s tutelage, he wouldn’t even know the difference between a carrot sprout and a weed.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Tim says, sitting back on his heels and rubbing at his face with one gloved hand. It leaves a streak of dirt across his cheek and he clearly has no idea.

_Aw, adorable._

Dick only catches himself staring when the expression on Tim’s face goes from grateful to confused. Whoops. He clears his throat and returns to work at twice the speed he was going before. “It’s not a hardship, seriously. It’s good to have something to do, and the company’s well worth the effort.” Glancing over, he sees a blush on the other man’s fair cheeks. It’s even cuter than usual because of the smudge.

“Okay,” Tim says, a little smile stealing onto his lips. “But you have to let me make you lunch.”

Dick opens his mouth to say yes, then hesitates, remembering the various times he’s found Tim sitting down for a sad meal of something he doesn’t quite believe is food, no matter the other man’s claims to the contrary.

Catching his expression, Tim begins to snicker. “Oh my god, your _face._ My cooking isn’t _that_ bad, is it?”

Caught between an insult and a lie, Dick chooses to take refuge in silence.

“Ouch.” Tim’s still grinning, so he’s probably not actually offended. “Okay, now that I know the truth about your opinion of my culinary abilities, let me reassure you. I went to the market early this morning and bought some ready-made bread and a smoked ham. We can make sandwiches using that and some cheese, and maybe pick a few of these tender greens to go with it.” His lips quirk. “Does _that_ sound better than whatever you were picturing?”

Dick’s stomach chooses that moment to gurgle loudly, and he’s surprised into a laugh. “Well, I guess that answers that.” But seriously, it sounds so much better than some of the questionable meals he’s seen in that house.

Tim chuckles, then grabs a nearby basket and begins deftly plucking tender young shoots for their repast. “By the way, Ives the bookbinder says there’s another barrow, out west of town. It’s farther away than the ones you already showed me, but I’d like to go check it out. If you have time, I mean.”

Wincing internally, Dick experiences another stirring of concern over Tim’s continued interest in monsters. He’s so human and defenseless, and no wonder. If both his parents have always been this absent, then it’s possible no one’s ever taken an interest in teaching him even the most basic magical defense spells or avoidance tactics. Maybe Dick can start teaching him on the sly?

The other man looks and sounds so excited, though, bright blue eyes sparkling and hands moving in sweeping gestures that nearly upend his basket of herbs. Dick can’t bring himself to turn him down. “Sure, sounds like fun. Maybe tomorrow, so I can bring us another one of Alfred’s picnic lunches?”

This time, it’s Tim’s stomach that growls. He blushes, then shakes his head with a laugh. “Obviously, I like that idea. Also, we’re not even halfway done with this, but it’s clearly time for a break.”

“I’m fully supportive of this idea.” Dick tosses down his handful of weeds and gets to his feet, then leans down to offer Tim a hand. Stretching, he pulls off his dirty shirt and rolls his shoulders.

_Mmm, it always feels good to get sweaty._

Turning, he sees Tim staring at him with an odd expression on his face. Hungry? Yeah, probably hungry. “C’mon, Timmy, show me this actual food you claim to have,” he teases. “Are you sure it isn’t an old belt masquerading as food, like that one time—”

Tim flushes beet red. “That wasn’t my fault! It was early and I wasn’t really awake yet.”

Still bantering good-naturedly, they make their way into the house. If Dick keeps an extra-watchful eye on Tim during the food preparations, well, it’s not unreasonable. As it happens, Tim only forgets to wash the greens. Dick notices the slug before either of them accidentally eats it, so he’s calling it a win.

The sandwiches are delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, skulking out of the house in deeply suspicious manner:** “Nothin’ to see here” *Glances furtively both ways before darting off into the woods*  
>  **Alfred, pensively:** “Perhaps we should stop feeding him so much red meat”  
>  **Dick, horrified:** “Ugh, I don’t want to think about Jason or all those poor socks he’s been abusing” *Runs off to find Tim* “Hey Timmy!”  
>  **Tim, beaming:** “I made you a sandwich!” *Holds it out*  
>  **Dick, terrified:** “Oh god no” *Backs away, eyeing sandwich fearfully*  
>  **Tim, reassuring:** “No wait, someone else made the parts. I just stacked them together” *Grins happily as Dick sighs in relief and takes sandwich* “You like slug, right?” *Snickers as Dick does actual spit-take* “Kidding, I was just kidding!”


	5. Chapter 5

Tim finishes the last bite of a truly superb steak and then sighs happily as he sits back, wondering what it must be like to live with this kind of cooking every day. Although, come to think of it, at this point he practically does. Dick brings over a wonderful picnic lunch or dinner on a daily basis now.

_Huh. I should probably send Alfred some more rare herbs as a thank you gift for all this. I know he’s the one actually doing all the work, after all._

But that thought leads him to a recollection of his plans for the evening, which definitely do not include time for harvesting plants. Hmm, maybe this is a good moment to see if Dick might be willing to help. Ever since the night he first saw the Great Bat rescuing people instead of ravaging them, he’s been quickly growing more and more convinced that there’s an active conspiracy against the poor creature. The rumors are so virulent and widespread, there has to be someone intentionally spreading them.

The potential reasons behind such a deliberate maligning have him worried, and he could really use some local help to figure out possible suspects and motivations. Now, if only he can manage to break through Dick’s understandable mistrust of the Bat long enough to convince him to have an open mind… “Dick? What if I were to tell you that I have reason to believe everyone who says the Great Bat is a vicious, bloodthirsty beast is mistaken?”

Dick chokes on his last bite of steak. Gasping and coughing, he chugs half a mug of ale before answering with a wheezy, “What?”

Biting his lip—that wasn’t a very auspicious beginning for his campaign to win Dick over to his way of thinking—Tim sucks in a breath, then answers. “I saw the Great Bat save some people, and now I think he’s a noble monster, possibly cursed to that form but inherently good. I’m worried there’s a conspiracy run by either bad guys he’s taken down, or maybe whoever cursed him to that form originally, and they’re spreading awful rumors trying to incite a mob to tear him apart or drive him away.”

As Tim speaks, Dick’s expression changes from stunned confusion to incredulous dismay, and finally settles on an oddly measuring look. “Why would you think that—the part about a mob, I mean?”

Tim frowns, worried. “Because I heard rumors in town earlier today about a mob forming to take down the Great Bat. It wasn’t regular townspeople. These men seemed rough and untrustworthy, but that’s why I need your help tonight—” He pauses, mouth dropping open in surprise at his companion’s reaction to his words.

Dick is already halfway to the door, having abandoned the last of his ale and lunged to his feet. “We must warn him!” Not waiting for him to follow, he hurries out the door.

_Well, that was significantly easier than I expected. Oddly so._

Blinking, Tim stares in surprise for a moment before he jerks to his feet and follows. Night has fallen since they started dinner, and he’s hit with bracing air the moment he steps outside. Trembling, he wonders if he has time to grab a jacket, then decides against it. Dick doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to wait up for him. Scrambling to catch up, he eyes the other man with confusion, a nebulous suspicion beginning to grow in the back of his mind. “Dick, I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, but where are we going? I only have a vague idea of where the Great Bat is likely to be—”

“He’ll be over the eastern crossroads, most likely. He always likes to do a quick sweep of the village perimeter around this time.” Dick doesn’t turn or offer an explanation for how he knows so much about the Great Bat, instead moving straight toward—

_Wow._

Tim stares, stunned by the sight of two graceful unicorns waiting at the edge of the forest. “Uh, Dick?”

A pair of unicorns stand in the moonlight, one black and the other dappled gray, and watch their approach calmly. Their delicate, spiralled horns glow with an opalescent shimmer, and it’s difficult to look away from their unearthly beauty. 

At the bewildered note in his voice, Dick turns to give him a reassuring, apologetic smile. “They’re here to help, it’s okay.” Walking over to the unicorns, he holds out one hand, palm up. The gray one sniffs at his hand, then paws the ground. “See? C’mon, Timmy, I already know you’re okay to approach unicorns. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

 _Well, I wasn’t even thinking about_ that _before, but now I am! Did he just imply what I think he did?_

Tim obediently approaches, offering his own hand to the black unicorn, which nickers softly, readily accepting him. “Wait, how did you know that, anyway?” he blurts out before he can manage to stop himself. “About my being a virgin, I mean.” He shuts up before he can dig the hole any deeper.

“Oh,” Dick has the grace to look slightly ashamed. “I’m part unicorn, so I can call them to me if I need help, and I’m also able to sense when someone’s a virgin.” He grimaces. “Sorry, I’m making this weird.”

Tim blinks. “I like weird.” He does. Dick’s always been incredibly appealling, but this revelation makes him even more fascinating. “These unicorns are incredible. You’re really part unicorn? Can you—” He pauses to accept the other man’s assistance boosting him up onto the back of the elegant creature. “Never mind, if I get started asking questions, I won’t be able to stop until I’ve satisfied my curiosity. Let’s talk about all that stuff later. Right now, we should get moving.” If his strengthening theories are correct, Dick might just be accepting of him, if he ends up having to reveal his own secrets tonight. Well, he can only hope.

Dick vaults onto the back of the other unicorn, and then they’re off. The glorious creatures gallop across darkened fields and down secret, hidden paths through the woods, almost certainly using magic to guide their hooves. There are no missteps, and Tim realizes after a nervous moment that he doesn’t even have to hold on; the unicorn’s magic does it for him.

That, of course, leads to the highly inappropriate thought, _I wonder if this is what it would be like riding Dick? Wait, no, rescuing noble but maligned monster now, embarrassing sex thoughts later._

The ride seems both endless and to occupy no time at all. It isn’t until they’ve stopped and he’s jumping off that Tim realizes he feels strangely reinvigorated. The weariness of a long day of manual labor, his sore muscles, even the blisters on his hands—everything feels better. He has a feeling if he checks, there won’t be a bruise or wound anywhere on his body.

“Wow,” he whispers, glancing back at the unicorn who carried him. “Thanks.”

Dick brushes against his shoulder as he moves over to stand at his side. “The unicorns say you’re very welcome. They’re going to stick around in case we need them for any healing later.” Turning, he focuses on a darkened clearing nearby, barely visible through the densely growing trees. “Oh no,” he whispers, and then he takes off running full tilt for the center of the clearing.

Following his gaze, Tim spots what looks like a group of men, punching and kicking at something on the ground. _The Bat._ He doesn’t hesitate. Releasing his form, he launches into the air and darts after his friend. Behind him, he can hear the thunder of the unicorns’ hooves as they move to follow.

Dick’s already standing over the fallen Bat when Tim reaches the clearing, a grimace on his face as he uses crackling manifestations of magic shaped to look like escrima to fight off several attackers at once. He’s incredible, fast and brutal, but there are too many attackers. Over a dozen rough-looking thugs are converging on him from all sides, and it’s only a matter of time before one slips through.

 _Like hell,_ Tim thinks savagely, finishing off his approach flight by circling tightly, weaving his way through the mob. As he flies, he breathes out toxic gas, careful to moderate the intensity so it merely renders the targets unconscious. As the last attacker collapses to the ground, he twists his head to check on Dick. _I hope I didn’t accidentally get him, too…_

But Dick is fine, and staring at him with an expression of utter shock. _“Tim?_ Is that you? Oh my gosh, you’re so _cute_ and _tiny!”_ The man is practically vibrating with excitement. Beside him, both unicorns kneel, horns glowing bright as they lean toward the Bat. Dick turns to them and reaches out his hands, explaining, “They can heal on their own, but it’s easier if I channel and guide the magic. I kind of act as an amplifier with my human magecraft, so we’re able to do more when we work together.”

“Cool,” Tim says, landing gracefully on a log next to them, and the other man does a double take.

“Wait, you can talk in that form? That’s awesome!” Dick pauses, then raises a brow with an abashed expression. “Uh, and what form _is_ that, exactly? You don’t look quite like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Tim tilts his head. “Ever wonder what happens when you cross a drake with a basilisk?” He snorts, careful not to release any toxic gas this time. “Me. I’m what happens. Basically, I’m a basilisk-sized dragon with some of a basilisk’s more deadly traits, like the poison gas and venom. I can also stun using only my gaze, but I try to avoid that one because for all I know it’ll evolve into the full killing gaze at some point, and I don’t want to risk it.” He shifts back into his human form, still sitting on the fallen log.

It feels so strange to be telling someone all of this. These are secrets Tim has kept since he was old enough to understand why, and for good reason. While most villages and towns are accepting of minor magical heritage, dangerous and deadly creatures have a bad reputation and tend to be treated with suspicion and contempt.

Well, just look at what happened to the Bat. But Tim trusts Dick. He’s already shown there’s far more to him than meets the eye. Still, he’s tense as he awaits a response.

He needn’t have worried. Dick grins. “That is so cool. Which of your parents is which? How did they meet? Wait, how did they—nevermind, ew, I don’t actually want to know that about your parents.” He makes a face, clearly having pictured it.

Tim bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, did you really just picture my parents having sex in their creature forms? Gross, Dick. Okay, so Mom’s the basilisk and Dad is the drake, and they met because Dad was making a ruckus terrorizing the countryside, then Mom got mad and came out of her lair because he disturbed her sleep. Her stare didn’t turn him to stone, but he was smitten by her bravery and viciousness.”

“So she didn’t manage to turn him to stone, but she did succeed in making him hard—” Dick sputters with laughter as Tim slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Ew, why?” he complains, then rolls his eyes and continues. “Anyway, they do all the physical side of things in their human forms. We think that’s why I’m so much more comfortable in my human form than my dragolisk one. Mom’s hoping that’ll wear off as I get older, so I’ll be able to travel the wilds with them when they get the urge to wander.”

Dick frowns. “So that’s why they’re never around. They’re _really_ gone.” He looks disapproving.

Tim shrugs, shaking his head. “Well, yeah. Hey, don’t look at me like that. They’re great parents, by their lights. I mean, Mom’s pretty proud that she managed to resist the urge to eat me before I even hatched, to reabsorb the calcium contained in my shell and bones. And Dad says male drakes usually don’t stick around to take care of their hatchlings at all. Probably because female drakes usually eat their mates after copulation. Anyway. We’re an unconventional family, but it works for us.” Seeing Dick only looks increasingly horrified the longer he talks, he shuts his mouth. Probably better not to mention the fact that he’s been left entirely alone for stretches of up to a few years at a time since he was barely bigger than a toddler.

“That is highly inappropriate behavior,” a voice rumbles, and they both jerk in shock. Whipping his head around to see if any of the thugs have awakened, it takes a moment before Tim realizes the voice which spoke came from the form on the ground between them. The Bat stretches, then sighs and slowly sits up. Besides bloodstains on its fur, there are no signs of the injuries which brought it down. “Parents should be there for their children, no matter what.”

The unicorns nicker, and then rise to their feet and move away, flicking an ear to acknowledge Dick’s wave and call of thanks. The Bat turns and looks at Tim, studying his face intently.

“Uh, hi,” Tim says, feeling awkward now that he’s actually face to face with the Great Bat and speaking to it for the first time. “Thanks, I guess? But really, my parents are pretty cool. Dad brings me a whole stag every time they come home, and Mom is always bringing me awesome books of spells to help make me stronger. She worries about me because my poison isn’t toxic enough to kill yet.” He smiles fondly.

The Bat blinks, absorbing this.

“Not that I want to kill anyone!” Tim continues hurriedly, realizing that might be misconstrued. “Just, Mom wants me to be strong so I’ll be safe.”

“Well, nothing wrong with that,” Dick breaks in. “B, are you sure you’re okay? What happened out there?” His voice sounds pained, worried.

It all but confirms Tim’s thoughts earlier that the Bat might be someone he knows, someone important to him. Family. Now, the question is, who? The brother seems the most likely candidate, except he was adopted by the family at a young age, years after the Bat began operating. Alfred is a possibility, but if it was him, then why did the Bat not begin operating until about twenty years ago? Maybe a spell that happened then, but—Bruce is more likely. The timing works out if he’s the one, and the creature’s benevolence also fits with the man’s known kindness and mercy, donating money and pouring time and effort into improving conditions throughout Gotham and the surrounding region.

The Bat breathes deeply before replying. “The mob was formed from the remnants of multiple groups of rogues and bandits I have apprehended over the years. Those who escaped or went free banded together over time, and it seems they spent most of that time working to plot my downfall. They knew my route well enough to lure me down here by simulating a robbery. When I landed, the apparent victims turned to aid their attackers in bringing me down, with spells to confound me long enough for others to attack me physically.”

Dick sucks in a horrified sounding breath. “B, _no._ If Tim hadn’t figured out something was going to happen tonight—”

No one says anything for a long moment. It’s obvious what would have happened. The Bat would have been killed. That… is unacceptable.

“Bruce,” Tim says, startling both of the others, who twitch and look at him with wide, surprised eyes, “You need a partner. Someone to go out with you when you’re in the field, and provide backup.”

“How did you…?” Dick trails off before confirming anything, but it’s obvious both of them know the jig is up.

“It just made sense.” Tim shakes his head. “I can explain my complete reasoning later, but seriously, your dad needs help.”

Dragging his gaze away from Tim’s face and back to the Bat, Dick nods, shoulders squaring. “I could go with you. I could keep up by riding a unicorn at ground level, and then help with the hand to hand combat and administer healing if necessary.”

The Bat begins shaking his head. “No, Dick. I couldn’t allow you to do that. Giving up every night—”

“You don’t have to,” Tim says, mind buzzing with ideas. “I could go with you some nights. I mean, once you get to know me, if you decide you want to…” His voice trails off and he looks down, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have just assumed the Bat would want him as a partner, not when they’ve barely even met.

But Dick picks up the thread, adding, “And Alfred could go with you on other nights!” Face falling, he says, “I’m not sure about Jason. I mean, I think he’d probably want to, and he’s big enough to take down some thugs, but I’m not sure what’s been going on with him lately.”

“I have also been concerned about his manifestation. It was inevitable, of course—” Bruce begins, then raises an eyebrow, looking toward the horizon. “Ah.” He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable.

“Manifestation…?” Dick murmurs, sounding confused, then gasps as he turns to look at whatever Bruce is staring at so pensively.

Following Bruce’s gaze, Tim squeaks in shock at the sight of a plume of smoke rising into the sky, glowing streams of molten rock flowing from the vent of a goddamn _volcano_ not two miles away _._ “That wasn’t there a minute ago,” he says, faintly.

“Why is there a volcano over there? Is that—Bruce, what the _heck?”_ Dick sounds more puzzled than alarmed, even though the inexplicable new volcano appears to be back in the direction of both the Wayne and Drake estates. Of course, it looks like a very small volcano, probably no more than forty feet tall. More of an angry hill than a wrathful mountain. Still, the sudden appearance is bizarre.

Bruce mumbles something, looking the other way. Tim frowns, puzzled. “What was that?”

Growling, Bruce mutters slightly louder, “I think it’s Jason.”

“Wait, what? Jason is the volcano? B, you’re not making any sense.” Dick tilts his head, looking more baffled than ever.

“No,” Bruce groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one furry hand. “Jason _made_ the volcano. By, er, connecting with the earth and achieving… physical release.” He sounds greatly pained at being forced to come out and say it in plain words.

“What the fuck?” Dick’s staring like he’s wondering if the Bat still has a concussion.

Bruce winces, then covers his eyes completely, shoulders drooping as he sighs. Voice muffled, he replies, “I have always strongly suspected Jason was part mountain troll. Recently, he began exploring his inherent magic more, venturing into the caverns beneath the manor and wandering. I followed him once or twice, just to make sure he was being safe, and happened upon him—” he grimaces, then continues, “— _trysting_ with a fire elemental. The earth shook, it was quite disconcerting.” Glancing over at the still-erupting volcano again, he looks away quickly as though pained by the sight. “Apparently, his powers have been growing, for him to manifest his, ah, physical state so spectacularly.”

Tim blinks, not quite sure how to respond to that. Dick saves him the trouble. “Bruce, _ew!_ Wait, you mean Jason’s having sex right now and _that’s_ why there’s a volcano erupting in the field by the manor?”

Venturing another glance toward the small but enthusiastic volcano, Bruce relaxes with a sigh, looking relieved. “No, apparently he’s done for the moment.” Shuddering slightly, he shakes his head. “I’ll have to speak to Alfred about that. I’m sure we can forge him some magic suppressant bracelets or an amulet he can wear during any, ah, _activities,_ to prevent quite such a direct manifestation in the future.”

In the background, the volcano begins erupting again, and Bruce winces. Dick looks equally appalled. “Wait, but what about all those socks?”

Bruce looks puzzled for a moment, brows drawing together, and then his expression clears. “Oh, the tunnels where the fire elemental lives are very hot. Jason would be fine, being part mountain troll, but his footwear has likely been taking some damage if he forgets to remove his socks before stepping into her boudoir.”

Dick’s brows rise. “Ah,” he says, a pained expression on his face. “I guess that’s better than what Alfred and I thought he was doing with them.” He doesn’t sound very sure.

Tim can’t help it. He starts to giggle. The Bat gives him a disgruntled look before taking to the sky, winging heavily in the direction of Wayne Manor.

 _Well, at least Jason is apparently well prepared to hold his own, if he decides to help patrol with the Bat. But wow, I don’t envy the guy his homecoming tonight. Not with the rest of his family knowing_ exactly _what he’s been doing. That’s going to be awkward for everyone._

Beside him, Dick reaches for his hand to help him to his feet. “Well, that went about as well as could be expected,” he asks, face alight with a grin of happiness and relief. “And now that I know you have wings… Want to fly with me, Timmy?” He sounds excited at the thought.

Tim blinks, brow furrowing slightly with confusion, then watches in surprise as Dick floats up into the air. “Wait, you can _fly,_ too?”

Dick laughs, rising higher before tumbling through a series of graceful acrobatic flips. “I got the unicorns from my dad. Flying and showy spellwork is all Mom, though.” He smirks. “You coming?”

Well, there’s only one answer for that. Grinning, Tim slips into his dragolisk form and darts up to weave around Dick’s airborne form, playfully circling him as they tumble and twist in an aerial dance.

They don’t make it home until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, hesitantly:** *Gathers courage to try to convince Dick to give the Bat a chance, incidentally spills that a mob is forming to attack the monster*  
>  **Dick, already halfway out the door:** “Omg we gotta save him!” *Rides to the rescue on an actual unicorn* “Whee!”  
>  **Tim, shrugging and going with the flow:** *Turns into tiny poisonous dragon, gases everyone attacking the Bat* “Booyah!”  
>  **Dick, tending to Bruce’s wounds:** “Wow, Timmy, your other form is awesome! Wait, what’s that?” *Points at new volcano, spontaneously erupting in the distance*  
>  **Jason’s volcano:** *Erupts loudly and enthusiastically, causing all subsequent conversation to be awkward as hell as everyone pictures exactly what he’s doing right now*  
>  **Bruce, facepalming:** “Why did I adopt, again?”


	6. Chapter 6

The warm light pouring through his window when he opens his eyes tells Dick it’s much later in the day than when he usually awakens. Confusion gives way after a moment to a thrill of excitement and awe as he remembers the events of the preceding evening, and the incredible flight which lasted well into the dawn.

_Tim. I need to go see him right away. Flying is awesome, but it’s hard to make big emotional confessions while performing paired aerial acrobatics._

He gets dressed and makes his way downstairs, only pausing to sit down for a quick breakfast to appease Alfred. He slows down once he reaches the table, eyes widening with surprise and interest. There’s a beautiful woman sitting beside Jason. Her flowing red hair and glowing green eyes give her away as the fire elemental who’s been occupying so much of his brother’s time lately. His baby brother has a girlfriend! “Hey there,” Dick says with his best charming smile. “I’m Dick. Nice to meet you!”

“Dickhead, this is Kori. Kori, my annoying big brother.” Jason shoves another pastry in his mouth and chews loudly. He doesn’t look entirely awake yet, which makes sense considering the night _he_ must have had. Dick knows better than to tease him while he’s in this state. Much. His brother’s always been grumpy first thing in the morning. Or, in this case, early afternoon.

Kori, on the other hand, looks alert and friendly. “Oh, yes! The one who speaks to the unicorns. You are very handsome, but—” she tilts her head, staring at him with apparent interest before brightening as though she just figured something out, “you have much air in your head.” With that mildly insulting pronouncement, she nods happily and then returns to nibbling at the croissant in her hand.

“Uh,” Dick says, not quite sure how to take that.

Across the table, Jason bursts into laughter, spraying him with pastry crumbs because he’s gross. He’s a terrible, awful little brother. “Did you just call Dickie an airhead, Kori? Because he totally is, but I’m surprised you could tell just from lookin’ at him for less than a minute.”

Dick sputters, wiping debris off his face and eyeing the Jason-spit and crumbs on what little is left of his own breakfast in disgust before nudging the plate away. Yeah, he’s not hungry anymore. “That’s needlessly hurtful,” he complains, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes to hide that he actually does feel a little bit hurt.

Kori’s eyes widen in surprise and she shakes her head quickly, looking remorseful. “Oh, no! That is not what I meant at all! I do not speak with surface-dwellers enough for your—idioms? Is that the right word?—to come naturally to me. What I intended to say was that I can sense your connection to another element, air. Perhaps you have sylph ancestry as well as the unicorn?”

_Oh, that’s much less insulting than I thought. This woman seems way too nice to be dating Jason._

“I don’t think so. But I do have some mage heritage and very distant griffin ancestry through my mom, which includes the ability to fly.” He shrugs, smiling.

“That certainly explains it! Such magic often has an elemental component if one is able to trace their heritage back far enough. Perhaps you do have some sylph or fae ancestry as well, even the tiniest portion, to account for it.”

Well, that’s a cool thought. It’s spoiled a moment later when Jason snorts. “Still takin’ that as concrete proof Dick’s an airhead.”

Dick scoffs. “Yeah, well at least I don’t set off volcanoes every time I—”

“Oh yeah? At least I _do_ somethin’ to set those volcanoes off in the first place—” his brother says, bridling.

Both of them have their mouths open, ready to bicker amicably for at least the next five minutes under Kori’s surprised but highly amused gaze, when there’s a knock on the door. Alfred answers it, then summons Dick to the door. “It is your young man. I believe it is quite a pleasant afternoon outside, an excellent opportunity for a walk.” Opening the door wider, he gestures for Dick to pass through.

Tim’s standing there, looking nervous but excited. “Wait, Alfred! Here, I brought you some more herbs.”

“Ah, thank you, Master Timothy! I am most pleased to have an opportunity to express my gratitude in person. After all, it is rare indeed to find one capable of growing proper poison mugwort and dogtooth violet infused with sleep. Both of those are most useful in crafting healing spells such as we provide for the town, and my usual sources do not provide half the quality or strength of yours.”

Tim blushes, looking at his feet as he answers. “I’ve always had to keep a garden, anyway, to make sure there was enough to eat. I started growing herbs for magic as well as food at some point over the years, and ended up spending some time in our last village experimenting on how using my basilisk abilities around the growing herbs could change them. I’m glad you’ve been finding them useful.”

Dick blinks. “Wait, but how did you realize Alfred could use those particular herbs?”

“Oh, when I was asking around the town for rumors, I didn’t just listen to the stuff about the Great Bat. There was plenty about your family, too, and I knew you guys were healers who supply spells and potions to the town doctor. So I figured some healing herbs would come in handy.” Tim’s blushing and not quite making eye contact.

Grinning, Dick shifts to the side to meet the other man’s eyes. “It’s okay, Tim. Nothing wrong with a little benevolent stalking.” Chuckling at the resultant fiery blush, he waves at Alfred and begins to move away, drawing Tim along with a hand to the small of his back.

They’re quiet as they move away from the house toward a nearby hill Dick knows has a beautiful view across the fields toward the town. If he angles his head just right, he doesn’t even have to see Jason’s ominously smoldering volcano. Choosing a sunny spot filled with grass and wildflowers, he flops down on his back with a sigh.

Tim settles more gracefully at his side, staring up at the clouds. “Last night was…” He shakes his head, smiling, apparently unable to quite put words to whatever he’s feeling right now.

Dick can understand that. But it seems like it’s time to speak at least a few of the things in his heart. “Yeah. Thank you, by the way, for everything you’ve done for us. Without your warning, I don’t even want to think about what could have happened to Bruce. And it was a huge wakeup call for the rest of us, too. We’re not going to let him go out without backup again.”

“I’m just glad I worked it out in time. And that we were able to save him, together.” Tim’s hand twitches like he wants to reach out for Dick, and that’s it.

_We’ve got to talk about us, I can’t take this anymore._

Dick smiles, looking at him searchingly. “We are, though, right? Together?”

Tim stares at him for so long he starts to fidget, worried he’s misread everything. Then he opens his mouth. “Oh, thank god. I’ve wanted to kiss you for _weeks_ but I wasn’t quite sure if we were just moving slow, or friends, or what—”

Laughing, Dick nods, relaxing and sinking back into the grass now that they’ve finally managed to talk about what they’ve been dancing around since practically the moment they met. “Right? I thought for sure when you grabbed my hand that one time, but then it turned out you were just trying to catch a bug.”

Tim snickers, a cute little grin on his impish face. “There wasn’t actually a bug.” Blushing, he buries his face in his hands. “Don’t judge me, you’re incredibly hot and fun and I just wanted to hold your hand for a second, okay?”

_Aww, he’s so cute!_

Dick reaches over and gently tugs one of Tim’s hands away from his face, then just holds it. The other man stares at him, still blushing, then smiles shyly. Emboldened, he pulls Tim’s hand closer so he can press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Well, now you can hold my hand any time you want.”

A loud, “D’aww!” draws their attention to the base of the hill, where Jason is standing, staring up at them with a goofy grin on his face. “You guys are so goddamn adorable I wanna puke!”

_Thanks, Jason. Way to ruin the moment._

At his side, Kori elbows him none-too-gently in the gut. Huh, maybe she _is_ a good match for him. “Hush, Jason! They have not finished declaring their intentions yet!”

Slightly behind them, Alfred and Bruce appear to be pretending to not pay attention to the spectacle. Poorly. Apparently, the entire family was curious enough to want to see this for themselves.

_Ugh, why? You guys are all so cruel._

Tim stifles a snort of laughter, rolling onto his side to face him. Dick mirrors his movements so they’re facing each other, their joined hands resting on the grass between them. “Just ignore them,” he advises. “Eventually, they’ll get bored and go away.” He hopes.

“Fair enough.” Tim bites his lip, smiling. “Just wait until you meet _my_ parents.”

“Well, that sounds like a threat. I don’t care, though, I’m not going to be scared away.” He squeezes the other man’s hand, enjoying the light blush that rises to his cheeks again. So pretty.

After a moment, Tim raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, then hesitates. Blushing furiously now, he says, “Okay, so this is awkward and probably going to kill the moment completely, but I’ve got to ask, what about the whole virgin thing? You know, calling the unicorns?”

Dick winces, not liking the reminder of what he’s going to be giving up if they eventually end up consummating their relationship physically. He’s going to miss the unicorns. It’ll be like losing a piece of himself. But Tim’s worth it. In this moment, he understands his dad’s long-ago decision better than ever before. “I’ll lose that ability once I have sex,” he admits softly, hearing Tim’s quiet intake of breath and seeing his widening eyes.

“Dick…” he whispers, concern in his big blue eyes.

“But that’s okay. I’ll still have my own healing abilities, even though they’re weaker without the unicorns. And the powers I got from Mom won’t change.” Dick shrugs, trying for a laugh and wincing internally when it falls a little flat. But this is his choice, and even if he’ll miss being able to summon the unicorns, he wants to be free to explore what he and Tim have together. Besides, it’s not like they’ll fall straight into bed. It takes time to court a man properly, and Dick fully intends to do this right.

Tim frowns. “Wait, but why give it up?” He raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever considered using a transference spell to get around that?”

“Wait, what?” Dick’s never heard of that.

“Yeah? I mean, there’s plenty of magic that only works if the caster embodies a certain quality, so there are workarounds for those who don’t. Like, humans can use elvin spells if an elf is willing to let them do a transference spell while they’re casting to fulfill the requirements of the magic. Same thing with people trying to use dark or light magic when they don’t have the requisite heritage. It just has to be someone you have a close connection with for the transference spell to work properly, like family or a very dear friend.”

“Oh.” Dick blinks, casting his mind through the various people he knows well enough to ask for a favor like that. The only other virgin who comes to mind is Tim, now that Jason has so emphatically proven himself to no longer embody that quality. “Uh… I don’t think that’s going to help in this case.”

Tim tilts his head. “Why not?”

“Once you and I have sex, I won’t have any close friends or family who are virgins!” Dick throws his arms up in exasperation and, okay, maybe he just shouted that. Whoops.

Blushing profusely, Tim covers his face with his hands as Jason, Kori, Alfred, and Bruce all stop pretending they aren’t listening, and turn to look at them curiously. “Oh,” he murmurs.

“Yes, you will,” Bruce interjects, startling Dick who turns to him, a questioning expression on his face. “I have never been interested in physical intimacy, and should thus be a suitable subject for this transference spell.”

_Oh, wow._

That’s—well, it’s a little surprising, mostly because he’s never even thought of the possibility of his _dad_ having a sex life. Dick can’t help the grin splitting across his face. “Oh,” he manages after a moment, overwhelmed with the idea that he can have Tim, and unicorns, too. “Thanks, Dad.”

At his side, Tim laughs out loud in delight. “See? You can keep the unicorns, Dick.”

“Fuck yeah, Dickie can finally dick around—” Jason stops talking for the simple reason that Kori has thrown herself, laughing, into his arms and claimed his lips for a kiss.

“I like her,” Dick decides.

“Yes, Koriander is an excellent partner and potential ally,” Bruce agrees. “As is Timothy. Their skills will be highly useful and both are of excellent character.” He sniffs, looking slightly miffed at having to admit that anyone is worthy of either of his beloved sons.

“Indeed,” says Alfred, then begins moving back to the house. “Please join me within at your convenience for a celebratory luncheon.”

Tim watches him go, head tilted in confusion. “Wait, isn’t he a vampire? Shouldn’t he be avoiding sunlight, or like, turning to ash or something?”

Dick shakes his head, also watching Alfred’s departure. “Yeah? I mean, probably, but it’s _Alfred._ He never seems to have to follow any natural laws.”

“Alfie’s his own law,” Jason contributes, pulling back from Kori’s lips with a lusty smack just long enough to speak before returning to their enthusiastic makeout session. The volcano, visible nearby, begins smoking ominously and Bruce eyes it in obvious horror before hurrying off toward the manor as well, clearly preferring to avoid any further visual evidence of his child’s ardor.

Gross. They really need to get that amulet enchanted soon so they can return to blissful ignorance instead of having highly visible proof every time his little brother decides to get it on with his hot new girlfriend.

Tim’s hand squeezes his, drawing his attention back to the other man. Yeah, he doesn’t want to be thinking about Jason right now. He’s got his own gorgeous, brilliant, highly attractive new boyfriend to focus on, after all. “Hey there,” he says, smiling. “So, I know we just talked about, well, physical stuff, but you don’t have to feel like anything needs to happen right away. We can take our time—” He cuts off as warm lips press softly against his and a warm, lithe body fills his arms. Groaning, he wraps his arms around Tim and holds him tight as they kiss.

_Or this. This works, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim and Dick, finally making a move on each other:** “Yay!”  
>  **Jason, Kori, Bruce, and Alfred, all spying on them from nearby:** “Yay”  
>  **Tim and Dick, turning to stare at them in horror:** “Wtf you guys” *Make eye contact with each other, shrug, get back to making out* “They’ll go away eventually”  
>  **Jason and Kori:** *Make out vigorously nearby, sending their volcano smoldering and sparking*  
>  **Dick, rolling himself and Tim over so they don’t have to see Jason or his lusty volcano:** “Ah, perfect”  
> *  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and to Salazarastark for running Dicktim Week! Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the sprints, betas and support while I was writing this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


End file.
